


If you were given one more chance (Would you bring me back to life?)

by stjarna



Series: Season 6 spec fics [13]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Some bus kids, canon-compliant MCD implied, season 6 spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: An angsty S6 spec fic of the team finding Fitz in space.





	If you were given one more chance (Would you bring me back to life?)

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen.
> 
> Inspired by the SpaceEngineer outfit Iain was wearing in the AOS New Year's video.
> 
> Title taken from “If I say” by Mumford & Sons

Cryo stumbled into the engine room as the entire ship shook around him. The attack had started mere minutes ago, but their adversaries clearly had the upper hand. Roadster had sent him to do some magic with the airlocks or fire doors to try and keep the intruders who’d managed to get on board at bay, but considering the speed with which they were working and the constant shockwaves threatening to break the hull, Cryo wasn’t sure if he’d be successful.

He ducked when a cable came loose, sending sparks spraying in all directions. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, ripping off one of the side panels and reaching inside to pull out one of the fuses. He flinched, letting out a painful hiss, when a jolt rushed from his fingertips up his arm. An alarm started blaring, red lights flashing in circles, making it harder for him to focus. He heard another explosion, another rumble echoing in the corridor as another shockwave rushed through the ship.

“Stop blowing up my ship, you bloody bastards,” Cryo growled through gritted teeth as he once again reached into the wall panel. His head shot up when suddenly all fell silent, the ragged movements stopped. “That can’t be good,” he mumbled to himself, nervously glancing side to side.

He turned around when he heard heavy footsteps in the corridor and his hands shot up in panic when two armed goons stormed in, pointing their weapons at him. “Hey, ho! I’m unarmed. I’m unarmed.”

The taller of the two turned his head to the hallway, shouting over his shoulder. “We got him.”

Cryo furrowed his brow in confusion, his heart beating somewhere in his throat, his stomach tight with panic.

A third person rushed inside, a woman carrying a smaller weapon. She froze for a moment, and a tremor seemed to run through her body. She dropped her gun, rushing towards Cryo, who raised his hands even higher in surrender. He took a step backward to escape, but the console behind him stopped him.

“Fitz,” the woman exhaled, as her hands cupped Cryo’s face and her lips pressed against his in sheer desperation.

Cryo inhaled in shocked surprise as the woman kissed him. It took him a moment to regain even just the slightest hint of composure. Gently he pushed her away by the shoulders, staring in confusion into her tear-rimmed eyes. There was something familiar about her whiskey-brown irises, but Cryo had learned that when your mind is a blank canvas void of memories, anything seems familiar, because you desperately want it to be.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not that I mind, but I think you got the wrong guy.”

Her face distorted as tears jumped off her lashes. She pressed the heel of her trembling hand against her forehead, turning away. “No, no no no, please no,” she muttered to herself.

Cryo felt his heart sink. He lowered his hands for a moment, wanting to console her, when the Captain’s booming voice made him freeze. “Cryo, you’re going with them.”

“What?” Cryo’s eyes darted towards the entrance to the engine room. He furrowed his brow, staring in confusion at Roadster and the woman standing next to him in a tight suit, her arms covered with silver gauntlets, her long dark hair falling onto her shoulders, her gaze a strange mix of stoic power and sad worry.

“You’re going with them,” Roadster repeated matter-of-factly.

“What? Why?” Cryo lifted his shoulders in confusion.

“‘Cause apparently they came for you,” Roadster ticked his head to the side. “You go with them. I get to keep my ship. Easy choice to be made.”

Cryo’s lips parted in shock. “Are you serious?” he exclaimed, placing one hand on his hip, while gesturing to the side with the other. “And who’s going to keep her afloat when I’m gone, huh? You said yourself you’ve never had a better mechanic.”

“We kept her afloat well enough before we found you,” Roadster said sternly, before addressing the woman next to him. “So, take him and get the hell off my ship. Deal?”

The woman held Roadster’s stare for a moment, before bobbing her head in silent agreement. She glanced at the two goons posted by the door. “Piper, Davis, take Fitz and let’s go.”

The two nodded in confirmation, before walking up to Cryo. He pulled his arm back when the tall one tried to reach for his biceps.

“I’m coming along, alright,” Cryo growled. “Just let me bloody walk by myself.”

The two goons exchanged a silent look, before the shorter one, a woman as Cryo noticed up close, took the lead. He followed her begrudgingly, the tall one walking just half a step behind him.

Cryo looked over his shoulder when the dark-haired woman in her powersuit walked past him to the other woman, who had her arms wrapped around herself.

“You alright, Jemma?” he heard her say, and through the corners of his eyes he could see the other shake her head in response, before falling into her friend’s embrace.

Cryo tore his eyes away, squinting instead in discontent at Roadster, who stood in the hallway, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Thanks for nothing,” he hissed at the Captain, before continuing on his path wedged between two of his captors.

* * *

Cryo stood between Davis and Piper, though he had yet to figure out which one was which. He glanced around the white container that had attached to one of the ship’s airlocks, but his head darted to the door when the two women stepped inside. For a moment, his eyes met the hazel-brown irises of the woman who’d kissed him—Jemma if he’d heard correctly—but her gaze quickly dropped to the floor as she stepped to the side, blinking away tears.

“Okay, let’s go,” the other woman said sternly, pushing a button that caused the doors of the container to close. She looked over her shoulder at the female goon next to Cryo. “Piper.”

“Yes, Agent Johnson.” Piper bobbed her head and waved a laminated card in front of a sensor next to her. A loud hissing sound echoed beneath Cryo’s feet, and he reflexively widened his stance, fanning out his arms for balance when the pod lifted in the air.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, looking at the ceiling as if it allowed him to see where they were headed. “I had an idea for a pod like this for the ship. Roadster thought I was mental.”

He felt everyone’s eyes on him and looked from person to person, surprised by the soft smile flashing across Jemma’s face.

The container came to a sudden stop, breaking Cryo’s eye contact with her. Agent Johnson pushed the button to open the door and stepped outside, Jemma following right behind her. Cryo hesitated for a moment, before stepping outside the pod, his eyes widening in awe at the impressive hangar of the massive spaceship. “Wow,” he mumbled to himself.

“Davis, Piper, take Fitz to the conference room. I’ll be right there,” Johnson said, catching Cryo’s attention.

“Wait, conference room?” He waved his hand to the side. “You’re not going to throw me in a cell or something?”

Johnson slumped her shoulders. “You’re not a prisoner, Fitz.”

Cryo wrinkled his forehead. “I’m not?”

“No.” Her eyes suddenly turned misty. “You’re home.”

Cryo furrowed his brow even further, his gaze wandering around the wide-open space of the cargo bay, taking in every object, every person, wishing anything truly looked familiar. He flinched when he felt somebody touch his elbow, his eyes darting up to Davis, who ticked his head to the side in the direction of a metal staircase. “This way.”

Cryo exhaled a sharp breath, trying to calm his nervous heart. He took a step in the direction of the stairs, but looked over his shoulder back at Johnson and Jemma. His eyes met Jemma’s, and her lips twitched briefly as if she were trying to give him a reassuring smile.

Johnson stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, sad resignation darkening her features. “So what do we do now?” Cryo heard her say, as Davis gently pulled him along further away from the two women.

Jemma shrugged, shaking her head, and though Cryo wasn’t close enough to hear her, he saw her lips form a discouraged “I don’t know.”

* * *

Cryo looked out the glass panels of the conference room, his eyes wandering from person to person. They all seemed busy, hustling around the bridge of the ship, and yet he could see their gaze dart to where he was sitting. A scrawny guy about Cryo’s age, who somehow looked out of place amongst the people in uniform, seemed to be particularly interested, yet was quick to look away each time Cryo’s eyes met his.

Cryo’s focus shifted when he noticed Jemma and Johnson enter the bridge. They walked up to the scrawny guy, and their looks darting in the direction of the conference room were enough to tell him that he was the topic of their conversation. Johnson eventually squeezed Jemma’s arm and turned on her heels, heading with fast steps towards Cryo, while the scrawny guy pulled Jemma into a hug. Cryo furrowed his brow, his stomach forming an uncomfortable knot. Still, his focus shifted when Johnson entered the room.

She lifted her chin in the direction of Davis and Piper, who’d stood guard. “You can go now.”

Johnson waited until her two goons had left the room, before looking back at him, sighing deeply. “So, you probably have a lot of questions.”

He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “A lot of questions? Well, there’s an understatement.”

Johnson crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m trying, dude, okay? This isn’t easy.”

Cryo raised his arms in disbelief. “Not easy?” He pressed his fingers against his chest. “I woke up in a cryo chamber six months ago with a gun pressed to my head and no memory of who I am. I spent days in a cell, with Roadster questioning me about Chronicons and Earth—when neither of those words meant anything to me. I’d probably still be in that cell if an asteroid hadn’t hit the ship and I managed to save everyone’s ruddy arses, because even though I have no memory at all, I somehow know how to fix things—like the machines just talk to me. I’ve spent every waking hour trying to remember. I’ve spent every ounce of energy trying to analyze my dreams, trying to figure out if they meant something, if there was anything familiar. Except they’re dreams, so how the hell am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s not—especially when sometimes they contradict themselves. And now you almost break apart the ship I called home for six months, and bring me here, and tell me that this is my home. But somehow it’s not easy for _you_?”

Cryo got up, slamming his hands on the table, ignoring how the woman across from him flinched. He pointed out the glass panel to the bridge. “If this is my home, why was I floating alone in space in a cryo chamber? Huh? You want more questions? Who is she?” He pointed at Jemma, who was still talking to the scrawny guy. “Why did she kiss me? Why is she so distraught? Why is everyone on this ship looking at me like they saw a ghost? Why—?”

“Because you died,” Johnson suddenly screamed.

He stared at her in silent disbelief, before a jolt rushed through him. He gestured up and down himself. “I’m pretty sure I did not,” he yelled back.

Johnson scoffed, placing on hand on her hip. “You died. One of you died.” She shook her head. “It’s complicated. There was a time loop and—” She exhaled sharply. “You died but you also didn’t, and we spent six months trying to find you because those asshat space pirates got to Enoch’s ship first and kidnapped you. And they messed up your defreeze which fucked with your memories, so you can’t even remember your wife.”

His eyes darted in Jemma’s direction. “We’re married?” he muttered breathlessly.

Johnson sighed. “No, not you. Not yet. It’s complicated.”

“Then who’s the guy she’s with?” He lifted his chin towards the scrawny bloke Jemma was talking to.

“Your grandson.”

Cryo’s head shot in Johnson’s direction. “My what? That doesn’t even make sense. Nothing you say makes any sense.” He tapped his temples with his fingertips. “Do you have any idea how insane you sound?”

“Yes,” Johnson yelled. “Yes, I know how insane it sounds.” She lifted her shoulders to her ears. “But that’s our life, Fitz. It’s insane. It doesn’t make sense. God, you have to remember.” She balled her hands into fists, tears filling her eyes. “You have to remember, Fitz, please. Because it’s enough. You and Jemma have been through enough. You’ve been ripped apart too many times. Oceans, and space, and a fucked-up virtual world in which you were the bad guy, and time, and death, and space again. It’s enough. It’s not fair. You have to remember. You always found a way back to each other. Always.” She turned around, kicking against the leg of the table. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She stood with her hands on her hips, her gaze to the floor, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Please, remember,” she whispered.

Cryo bit his lower lip, his heart beating rapidly in his chest while his mind raced in circles. He exhaled a stuttering breath. “I want to talk to her,” he said quietly.

Johnson lifted her head, looking sideways at him. She shook her head, sadness lacing her voice. “I don’t know, Fitz. I don’t know how much more she can take.”

Cryo gestured towards where Jemma was standing on the bridge. “Don’t you think the love of my life may have a better shot at triggering my memory than you yelling things at me that don’t make sense?”

Johnson scoffed, one corner of her mouth ticking up briefly. She swallowed, bobbing her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” he replied calmly.

Johnson turned towards the door, but stopped when Cryo called out her name. “Hey, Johnson?”

“Yeah?”

“That virtual world—” he said, feeling his heart beat more frantically in his chest, “how bad was I?”

Johnson’s eyes slowly wandered up to meet his. “Pretty bad.”

“Was I ever like that in real life?” Cryo asked, his stomach tightening uncomfortably.

Johnson held his gaze, the fear shimmering in her eyes the only confirmation he needed.

“Not you,” she said, her expression softening slightly.

He wet his lips, bobbing his head in understanding. “But the other?”

She looked to the ground, blinking against the onset of tears, before lifting her head, looking at him with determination. “We won’t let it happen again. Don’t worry.”

Before he could reply, she turned around and left the room, the doors sliding shut behind her.

* * *

Cryo jumped up when Jemma entered the room. He stretched out his hand, taking a step forward. “Cryo. I’m a mechanic.”

She furrowed her brow for a moment, staring at his hand, before letting out a quiet chuckle, accepting his handshake. “Jemma Simmons, biochem.”

Cryo pulled his hand back, rubbing his palm on the leg of his trousers, smiling shyly. “I don’t know why I did that.”

She looked at him softly, speaking barely above a whisper. “Quite alright.”

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to meet her eyes and yet fighting the urge to avoid her gaze. “I can’t make much sense of what Johnson said, but I also find it hard to believe someone would make stuff like that up, so—I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “What’s one more hurdle?”

“I try to remember. Every day. I look at things. I look at people. And I try to remember.” Cryo shook his head, tapping it gently with his fingers. “But there’s nothing. How can a person just forget everything? How could I forget someone like you?”

She grimaced, somewhere between smiling and crying. “It’s all there, Fitz. It’s not gone.”

“Tell me who I am,” he pleaded quietly.

Her lips twitched, before she moved her head side to side. “That won’t work, Fitz. Me telling you about your past won’t restore your memories, it will just plant a memory of me telling you a memory. It’s not the same. The brain doesn’t forget. It loses connections, so memories are hidden. They lie dormant until the right spark comes along and ignites one memory, which may ignite another, and another. But it has to come from within you.”

“But I’ve tried.” Cryo pressed his fingers against his chest, before gesturing at her. “You kissed me and not even that—What do I need to do?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged apologetically. “Your brain has been through a lot. It may need longer to recover. You had a brain injury, and then—then your mind got jumbled in a virtual world—basically you were given a second set of memories, an entire second lifetime, and now the cryo chamber was—”

“I was a bad guy there,” Cryo interrupted her. “Johnson said that.” He exhaled a nervous breath. “What if I get those memories back? What if I become that person? I don’t want to be that person. I want to be one of the good guys.”

She laughed quietly, before sniffling, pressing her lips into a close-mouthed smile. “The person I’m talking to right now sounds an awful lot like the man I’ve known since I was 16, not like the man from the virtual world. So I’m not worried.”

He scoffed. “Makes one of us.” He eyed Jemma up and down, one corner of his mouth ticking up. “You’re the optimist in our relationship, aren’t you?”

She laughed, yet her eyes remained filled with sadness. “I used to be at least. You used to say we were cursed, that the cosmos wanted to keep us apart.” She wet her lips before pressing them into a thin line. “I used to tease you for it, but after everything we’ve been through—” She shrugged. “Maybe you were right.” She shut her eyes, wiping away the tears that jumped off her lashes.

Cryo bit his lower lip, furrowing his brow, his stomach tight as if he felt the pain of her soul. He shook his head, taking a step forward and grabbing her arms, squeezing them gently. “No. That’s not true.”

Her eyes shot up in surprise, and as if by instinct, he used his thumb to brush away another tear that snaked down her cheek before resting his hand on her shoulder. “Johnson said—well, she mentioned we’d been torn apart by the ocean and space and time and death and—”

Jemma let out a sad laugh. “Yes, precisely. Proving the point, don’t you think?”

Cryo shook his head, squeezing her shoulders more firmly. “No, no, because she also said that we always found a way back to each other. Always. Even through death and that—a love like that, that’s stronger than any curse.”

He paused, furrowing his brow, his mind racing, his eyes moving rapidly as if trying to chase after a thought. “Love like that’s stronger than any curse,” he repeated to himself, letting go of Jemma’s shoulders and taking a step back, reaching for his forehead and rubbing it with trembling fingers.

“Fitz?” Jemma asked quietly, her tone laced with concern.

Cryo pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing his palm against the side of his head, trying to stop it from spinning. “I spent six months locked up in an off-the-books military prison,” he muttered, “just hoping to find you and I realized something. The universe can't stop us.” He looked at Jemma, who seemed frozen, her eyes fixed on him. His lips twitched, wanting to smile, while his eyes filled with tears. “Cause we've crossed galaxies. We've traveled through time. We've survived the bottom of the Atlantic just so we could be together. Now, a love like that—that's stronger than any curse.”

Jemma exhaled a stuttering breath, her body trembling when Fitz stepped closer, cupping her face.

“And you and I, we are unstoppable together,” Fitz continued, reciting a speech he’d rehearsed over and over. “I don't want to live another day without you. So, Jemma Simmons, will you marry me?”

Jemma let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. She cried out his name, before pressing her lips against his in a kiss more desperate than the one she’d given him earlier. Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” Fitz cried, pushing back and cradling her face in his palms, kissing her again. “I’m sorry.”

“You came back,” she sobbed, running her fingers through his hair. “You came back to me. You kept your promise.”

“I’m never leaving your side again. I’ll handcuff myself to you if I have to.” Fitz kissed her before she could express the protest he knew lingered on her lips.

She rested her forehead against his, her fingers softly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You’re home,” she whispered against his lips.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Fitz said quietly.

She looked at him in confusion, wrinkling her forehead. “What question?”

Fitz couldn’t help but grin as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Will you marry me?”

Her face lit up with a beaming smile as she cleared her throat, nodding in confirmation. “Absolutely.”

Fitz closed the gap between their lips, allowing their tongues to dance in a tender kiss.

“Just one thing,” he remarked when he broke away.

“Yes?”

Fitz bit his lower lip, lifting his chin in the direction of the glass panel that showed the bridge. “Can you explain the whole grandson-our-age thing to me?”

Jemma chuckled. “Yes, gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do I want Fitz to start out with amnesia? Absolutely not! I think it's basically been done (particularly with the Framework ark) and is an unnecessary separator, but my brain has been coming up with about 15000 different scenarios of what the writers might do and I'm just trying to prepare myself by writing them "my way" :D


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